After some thought, he decided to focus solely on meditation for a while. He had reviewed only one memory so far. If he could examine more, it would be a significant breakthrough—perhaps even allowing him to enter the Inner World. If that happened, everything would proceed much more smoothly from then on. Thus, the plan: only food, meditation, and sleep. The time limit: until the goblin meat ran out.
The plan was set. First, he needed to cook all his remaining goblin meat and store it in his inventory. As he began, a "ding" sounded in his mind. Mark was surprised; it was definitely the System, which usually remained silent unless prompted. A panel appeared:
[Congratulations, Host. You have lived in this dungeon for 3 months. A clothing set tailored to your measurements has appeared on your bed. As this is the first time, the System is notifying you. In the future, there will be no warning.]
Mark stood in silence for a moment. He finally remembered: one of the unique features of the Safe Zone was that a new set of clothes would appear every three months. But did it really matter? Had it truly been three months? It felt like a year. Without a sun on the 1st Floor, he tracked time through his sleep cycles, but considering he slept and woke whenever he pleased, his internal clock was likely completely distorted.
First, he cooked the meat. Then he washed and ate. The taste was still awful. If he hadn't found occasional fruit and some small animals in the forest, he might have lost his sense of taste altogether by now. After eating, he went to his bed. The clothing set was indeed there, but it was different:
The undergarments were standard, but the outer layer was made of tough leather, looking more like light armor than simple clothes: leather trousers, a leather vest (jerkin), and leather boots. Specifically, the boots—the sole of the left boot was crafted to be higher. Once dressed, Mark did something he hadn't been able to do in a long time: he stood upright without leaning on anything. Though his back still naturally slouched a bit, the equalized leg length made his posture and gait much more comfortable. The reinforced leather of the trousers gave him a sense of security; at the very least, it should be able to deflect basic arrows and knife strikes. Mark mentally praised the System, changed his clothes, and sat down to meditate.
Mark couldn't quite explain what exactly he was doing during meditation, but in terms of sensation, it felt as if something warm was embracing his entire body. This was his sign of successful meditation. He felt it now. He was attempting to delve into Thaddeus's memories, but it seemed this wouldn't happen quickly. Yet, Mark did not rush. He would stop to eat, return to meditation, and sleep when tired, repeating the cycle many times.
Finally, during one session, his surroundings began to shift. A world of vibrant color and light emerged. It was the Lightborn estate. Judging by his height, Mark realized he was even younger than in the previous memory—likely around four or five years old. Young Thaddeus was sprinting through the house, teasing the maid assigned to him and eluding her in various ways. He was incredibly agile and a master of the escape.
As he rounded a corner, he collided with someone's leg and tumbled onto his backside. Eyes welling with tears, he looked up at the person he had run into. It was a tall, well-built, handsome man with a commanding noble aura—white hair, dark eyes, and a fixed stoic expression. This was Thaddeus's father, Lucas Von Lightborn. He looked much younger than Mark remembered. Behind him stood a middle-aged butler.
Lucas looked down at Thaddeus's teary eyes with a neutral expression. He turned to the butler and asked, "Who is this child?" The butler looked at Thaddeus and replied, "That is Martha's son, Thaddeus. He possesses mana and is said to be very talented." Upon hearing the name "Martha," Lucas paused in thought. He turned back to Thaddeus, who was stubbornly refusing to cry. Kneeling on one knee, Lucas helped the boy up and patted his head. He pulled a caramel candy wrapped in beautiful paper from his pocket and handed it to Thaddeus. "Don't cry. Be a good boy," he said, his face remaining perfectly stoic.
At that moment, the maid appeared, apologizing profusely. Lucas gave a slight nod and walked away with his butler. Thaddeus stood there with the candy, staring at the back of the father he was seeing for the first time in his life. Mark realized this was the earliest memory Thaddeus could recall. As for where Lucas got the caramel, Mark chuckled to himself. From reading The Great Hero, he knew that while Lucas maintained a stern noble persona, he had an extreme secret weakness for sweets—something only his butler likely knew.
That single pat on the head, one kind word, and that caramel candy—it was the first and last moment of genuine affection Thaddeus ever received from his father. From there, the scenery and time began to shift. The memories became a blur of young Thaddeus constantly asking about his father, listening to tales of his deeds, and harboring a burning desire to become a great man just like him.
There was one pivotal event before he turned six. In noble families, if a child possessed mana, they were taken to a renowned Mage upon reaching the age of six. The Mage would inspect the child's Mana Veins and assist in opening them. It was largely a traditional ceremony for nobles to boast about their lineage, as mages were plenty within their own estates. However, magical study and mana vein manipulation required the child to be at least six years old; any earlier, and the risks were unpredictable.
During this ceremony, the Mage inspecting Thaddeus was struck with astonishment. He sensed that the mana veins in Thaddeus's eyes were incredibly rare. Upon closer inspection, he discovered that beyond the veins, the optic nerves themselves were structured differently. Specifically, the mana channels were deeply integrated into the eyes and the nerves.
When the Mage opened Thaddeus's mana veins—especially those localized in his eyes—his true potential was revealed. By channeling mana into his eyes, he gained photographic memory and the ability of perfect mimicry. It was pure talent, a unique anatomical gift. The six-year-old Thaddeus didn't fully grasp the magnitude of what was happening; his only thought was that this might finally make his father proud. This led to the memory Mark had seen before: the demonstration of his talent to his father, followed by the beginning of his "hellish" training.